"Precious--very, very precious," he murmured drowsily. "Thank you--thank everybody--" And he sank into an obese and noiseless slumber as the gray and silver curtain slowly fell. The applause, far from rousing him, merely soothed him; a honeyed smile hovered on his lips which formed the words "Thank you." That was all; the firing-line stirred, breathed deeply, and folded twelve soft white hands. Chlorippe, twelve, and Philodice, thirteen, yawned, pink-mouthed, sleepy-eyed; Dione, fourteen, laid her golden head on the shoulder of Aphrodite, fifteen. The finger-tips of Lissa and Harrow still touched, scarcely clinging; they had turned toward one another when the curtain fell. But the play, to them, had been a pantomime of silhouettes, the stage, a void edged with flame--the scene, the audience, the theater, the poet himself as unreal and meaningless as the shadowy attitudes of the shapes that vanished when the phantom curtain closed its folds. And through the subdued light, turning noiselessly, they peered at one another, conscious that naught else was real in the misty, golden-tinted gloom; that they were alone together there in a formless, soundless chaos peopled by shapes impalpable as dreams. "_Now_ tell me," she said, her lips scarcely moving as the soft voice stirred them like carmine petals stirring in a scented breeze. "Tell you that it is--love?" "Yes, tell me." "That I love you, Lissa?" "Yes; that!" He stooped nearer; his voice was steady and very low, and she leaned with bent head to listen, clear-eyed, intelligent, absorbed. "So _that_ is love--what you tell me?" "Yes--partly." "And the other part?" "The other part is when you find you love me." "I--do. I think it must be love, because I can't bear to have you go away. Besides, I wish you to tell me--things." "Ask me." "Well--when two--like you and me, begin to love--what happens?" "We confess it----" "I do; I'm not ashamed.... Should I be? And then?" "Then?" he faltered. "Yes; do we kiss?... For I am curious to have you do it--I am so certain I shall adore you when you do.... I wish we could go away somewhere together.... But we can't do that until I am a bride, can we? Oh--do you really want me?" "Can you ask?" he breathed. "Ask? Yes--yes.... I love to ask! Your hand thrills me. We can't go away now, can we? It took Iole so long to be permitted to go away with Mr. Wayne--all that time lost in so many foolish ways--when a girl is so impatient.... Is it not strange how my heart beats when I look into your eyes? Oh, there can be no doubt about it, I am dreadfully in love.... And so quickly, too. I suppose it's because I am in such splendid health; don't you?" "I--I--well----" "Oh, I _do_ want to get up at once and go away with you! _Can't_ we? I could explain to father." "Wait!" he gasped, "he--he's asleep. Don't speak--don't touch him."